


So It Goes

by Ambyrfire



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Tags will be added as necessary, post episode 24, snowball fights and cuddling and such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambyrfire/pseuds/Ambyrfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Like a river flows, surely to the sea</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Darling, so it goes</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Some things are meant to be</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Take my hand, take my whole life too</i>
  <br/>
  <i>For I can't help falling in love with you</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A collection of oneshots chronicling the life of Inaho Kaizuka and Slaine Troyard in the years 2016–? C.E. </p>
<p>EDIT– Slaine week update, for the prompt "New Beginnings"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cost/Benefit Analysis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CountLestannaoftheVersEmpire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountLestannaoftheVersEmpire/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inaho considers the costs and benefits of the first snowfall of winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This collection is dedicated to my wonderful beta-reader CountLestannaOfTheVersEmpire, and the lovely people of the Blue Roses chatroom who egged (heh) me on in this. And who are, in fact, screaming at me to post this fic faster right this very second. Your encouragement has been invaluable.
> 
> And yes, this will be a oneshot series. There is no set update schedule– these will get written as I get the inspiration/time (like this first one, which was written in a week, born from my delight at the first snowfall of winter).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Inaho considered himself to be, by most standards, an early riser.

This did not mean, however, that he would prefer to be awoken at 5:28AM on a Saturday by a heavy weight landing on his legs and then bouncing excitedly.

“Inaho! Inaho, wake up! It’s snowing!”

Inaho frowned and– eye still closed– tried to comprehend how this was a valid reason to get up. “It was in the weather predictions…” he murmured sleepily.

“I know! But it’s snowing _right now_!” This was punctuated with another excited bounce.

Inaho mumbled something that even he himself didn’t bother to try to understand and pulled the blankets over his head. This strategy failed rather spectacularly when Slaine began poking his side through the blankets while chanting “Get up, get up, get up!” Inaho desperately attempted to wiggle away from the merciless poking, but Slaine had the advantage of higher ground: Inaho was doomed. He tried to bite back a breathless laugh as he squirmed, and then made the tactical decision to concede an unwinnable battle and threw back the covers. “ _ha_ –I’m up– I’m up! You can stop that.”

Even if he would not have chosen to be woken so early, Inaho had to admit that being greeted by Slaine’s eager, happy smile was an acceptable form of compensation.

“So? Come on! Let’s go!” Slaine immediately leapt up from the bed and bounded out of the room, leaving Inaho to shout helplessly after him–

“Slaine, wait! You need to be wearing appropriate clothing for the weather”– he trailed off with a sigh. Who knew if Slaine had even heard, or if he would listen even if he had. Reluctantly, Inaho excavated himself from the warmth of the down comforter and shuffled out into the hall. Oh his way, he grabbed a second jacket and pair of boots from the rack. Perhaps it was the years Slaine had spent in space, but he seemed unnaturally impervious to cold. However, Inaho took the perspective that just because one _could_ withstand ridiculous temperatures, that did not mean that one _should_. As an afterthought, he added an extra scarf to the bundle already in his arms.

Upon reaching the entryway Inaho was mildly relieved to find that Slaine had not charged recklessly into the snow, but instead was standing transfixed staring out the window at the world outside. He must have heard Inaho approaching, because he turned to look over his shoulder. Somehow, it seemed that his expression retained some of the soft glow coming from the window, and Inaho’s chest fluttered peculiarly.

“Here” he said, presenting Slaine the proper winter gear in his arms. When Slaine smiled again, his chest repeated that odd flutter. It was a strange sensation… but not unpleasant.

He had been feeling that particular sensation rather often over the past year.

Once Slaine had finally buttoned his coat up properly– an unexpectedly difficult and time-consuming task, taking into account how Slaine kept attempting to look at the falling snow instead of actually paying attention to what he was doing– Inaho reached up and wrapped the scarf around his neck. Slaine’s eyes fluttered shut as Inaho’s hands ran through his hair, freeing the pale, soft strands from being trapped between the scarf and his skin. “Thank you…” Slaine said, opening his eyes again to look at Inaho. His breath was warm against Inaho’s skin.

Inaho stepped back and smoothed the ends of the scarf down. “There. We can proceed now.” Slaine smiled again, and Inaho simply stood and stared, his hands resting on Slaine’s chest. Slaine looked down at him, eyes soft and warm, and then let out a small laugh. He leaned down and kissed the tip of Inaho’s nose. Inaho let out a small (and rather undignified) noise of surprise and stepped back.

“Let’s go.” Slaine reached out and wove his fingers through Inaho’s, pulling him gently towards the door. Inaho let him, and squinted against the cold as they stepped out into the snow.

Slaine stopped almost immediately, holding his hands out to catch the flakes as they fell. Then he stuck out his tongue, and laughed with delight when one of the flakes landed on it. Without warning he sprinted down the mostly-buried path. Just as Inaho was about to call after him, he bounded back through the curtains of white just as swiftly, eyes sparkling as his breath puffed in pale clouds.

“Snow!” Slaine said excitedly, seizing Inaho’s gloved hands and dragging him into an exuberant, whirling dance through the snow. Really, Inaho should have been paying attention to maintaining his footing on the slippery ground, but Slaine’s smile was too enrapturing to look away from.

In one word: Slaine was beautiful.

As they stumbled to a stop, his hair fluttered in the wind, looking almost silver in the dim snowlight. His blue eyes were wide with wonder, cheeks and nose pinched red by the cold, and–

He was happy. Inaho did not require particularly sharp face-reading skills to tell that. But… when had been the last time Slaine had been able to do this? To be unburdened, and free to enjoy the world?

“Slaine, how long has it been… since you’ve seen snow?”

Slaine shut his eyes, as if to guard against some sudden familiar pain, breathed in, and then out again. “Ten years” he whispered, just loud enough for Inaho to hear over the wind. “I haven’t seen a snowfall in ten years.”

“Oh.” Inaho blinked. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Slaine looked at him again, smile returning. “It’s thanks to you that I’m even here to enjoy this at all. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay.”

“I never helped you with the expectation of repayment”–

Slaine laughed, a high, clear, light sound. “I know! And that’s why what you’ve done means so much to me.” He glanced down at their joined hands. “That’s why I am so, so profoundly glad to have met you.”

Inaho followed his eyes down and back up, and smiled. “Then I can say the same: I am grateful to live in a universe that allowed us to meet. Though…” Inaho frowned thoughtfully, “…it did take a while.”

Slaine laughed again, and Inaho felt his own lips curving upwards again in response. “It did,” Slaine said, resting his forehead against Inaho’s, “but we made it through anyway.”

 _We earned this_ , Inaho thought as the steam of their breath mingled between them. We fought for this, long and hard. And we won.

“We made it…” Slaine’s smile took on a sudden mischievous edge. “And so now I can do _this_!” He darted back, scooped up a handful of snow, and threw it.

Inaho dodged the toss by a hair, eye locked on Slaine as he snatched his own snowball. A moving target was always a greater challenge to hit.

 _Excellent_.

Snow flew back and forth. Inaho took cover behind a snow-coated bush; Slaine made clever tactical use of the nooks and crannies of the walls. A well-timed throw covered Inaho’s shoulder with snow, but he evened the score with a precise strike that burst over Slaine’s chest.

No banter was exchanged: this was a serious matter. The only sound that disrupted the wind was Slaine’s occasional yell of victory at a successful hit. Inaho did not make any noises of his own– they would merely be a waste of breath in battle.

A stalemate formed. The score remained even, according to Inaho’s count. Twenty-two to twenty-two. But then– he leapt up to throw a snowball, and–

Slaine was nowhere to be seen.

In the fraction of a second that this took to register as a warning sign, Slaine made an abrupt reappearance. Directly in front of Inaho.

By that point, it was far too late for him to react in time. Even as Inaho threw himself backwards, he knew that it was futile.

Slaine tackled him bodily, and they tumbled into the snow together, landing in a breathless heap halfway through a snowdrift.

There was snow caught in the feathery strands of Slaine’s hair, and little white flakes clung to his eyelashes as he laughed. “I have taken out the great Inaho Kaizuka, ace of the UFE!” he declared, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice as he smiled down at Inaho.

“Well, it was an ambush” Inaho pointed out. “Hardly a fair match of skills.”

Slaine leaned closer. “You just don’t want to admit I beat you,” he said, smirking.

“I’m calling into question the validity of the match when one of the parties involved was unprepared to put forth a solid effort.”

“ _Tch_ ” Slaine tutted, moving so close that the tip of his nose brushed Inaho’s. He went on in a low voice. “Are you claiming that you, of all people, somehow were _not_ ready? Losing your edge, Inaho.”

“Oh” Inaho said quietly, “I think I’m still quite sharp, Slaine.” And then he leaned up and closed the gap between their lips.

Slaine made a small sound, halfway between surprise and pleasure, and Inaho watched as open-sky eyes fluttered shut. His own eye soon followed suit. The delightful heat of Slaine’s mouth, moving in a slow even rhythm with his, contrasted rather pleasantly with the cold wind, and the chill of the snow-covered ground seeping through the back of Inaho’s jacket. Slaine brought his hands up to cup Inaho’s face. Inaho hummed approvingly and wrapped his arms around Slaine’s neck, shifting slightly to optimize the angle. Slaine’s skin was soft against his, and he savored the sensation. It was a hopeful improvement over the dry, cracked texture there months ago. Inaho arched up slightly into the kiss, pressing against Slaine and holding him tighter. This, what they had, was hard-won. A miracle, even. But, as selfish as it might be to think so, the costs had been worth it in the end to Inaho.

They parted lazily, their breathing mingling as the snow fell softly around them. “Are… are you cold?” Slaine murmured, his breath pleasantly warm on Inaho’s skin.

“This is warm enough.” Inaho smiled when Slaine huffed out another laugh at that.

“But really, come on, get up. If you get snow frozen in your hair I’ll never hear the end of it.” Slaine hauled them both upright in one smooth motion.

Slaine had been right, in part: there was indeed snow in Inaho’s hair, and stuck to his back, and clinging to his legs. Slaine was in similar condition, after their tumble through the snow, and they both were quickly becoming soaked as the snow melted faster than they could strip off their winter gear. Inaho wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to retain some body heat, stamping his feet to return sensation to them.

“You didn’t get dressed?”

“There wasn’t time.”

Slaine smiled. “Were you really that worried I was going to just charge out the door barefoot?”

“Yes.” Slaine rolled his eyes, so Inaho elaborated. “You have a history of reckless behavior when under the influence of heightened emotion.”

“And _you_ have a history of fussing over me too much. Hey, are your hands cold?”

Inaho merely stared back at him, feeling that the answer was rather self-evident from the way they were stuffed beneath his arms.

“Here, let me see them. Your hands,” Slaine said. Inaho complied, and was rewarded by Slaine bringing them to his lips and breathing over them. It was an eminently pleasurable sensation, and Inaho felt it well worth the price of having chilly fingers if they were going to be re-warmed in such a fashion.

There was still the issue of his increasingly uncomfortable and damp clothes, however. They proceeded to the bedroom together, Inaho’s hand still resting in Slaine’s.

Slaine’s grip was perhaps slightly tighter than strictly necessary, Inaho noted– but he by no means objected. He was familiar with Slaine’s need for physical contact; indeed, he had enjoyed finding out how pleasant it was himself. He was quietly glad that Slaine only let go of his hand when they stood in front of the closet.

Inaho shivered slightly as he peeled off the offending cold, wet garments. He did not think his cost/benefit analysis was inaccurate, especially taking into consideration the expression of happy, quiet contentment on Slaine’s face. That did not make the costs any more pleasant, however.

“Here.”

Inaho looked up to see Slaine holding out a sweater– and really, it was beyond him how Slaine had figured out that this one was his favorite, with its soft, warm fibers and mild dove grey color. He had never specified the fact out loud, or otherwise indicated it. Slaine had just… known, somehow.

Inaho would not have chosen to have it any other way.

Watching the muscles of Slaine’s chest shift and ripple under his skin was another definite upside to the situation, Inaho thought approvingly. Even if the cold was still highly displeasing. He shivered again. The effects of being foisted out of bed so early were beginning to make themselves apparent as well, for his eyelids felt rather heavy. He also judged that the current distance between him and Slaine was unsatisfactory. Therefore, he closed it and leaned against Slaine’s nicely available shoulder.

“…Inaho?”

“mmm” Slaine was very warm. Slaine was always very warm; it was nice. Inaho approved.

Slaine took his hand again. “How about we go back to bed. You look like you need to warm up after that.” A gentle tug guided Inaho back towards the bed. He thought this plan to be quite sound, and so complied eagerly.

The blankets held no residual body heat from the night, but Inaho compensated for this by snuggling closer to Slaine and curling an arm around his waist. Slaine gave a small, soft sigh and wrapped an arm around Inaho in turn, drawing their bodies together snugly, chest-to-chest.

A calm silence settled over them, a silence made of soft touches and breaths and heartbeats.

“I’m sorry for dragging you out in the cold so early,” Slaine murmured apologetically.

“Don’t be,” Inaho said with enough fervency that it surprised even him. “It made you happy. And so it made me happy as well. That is well worth the minor costs.”

Slaine’s eyes widened, and then he looked away, a blush spreading across his face. “I… that’s not… Inaho… you shouldn’t…”

“I should. I am.” Inaho brought his hand up to cup the back of Slaine’s head, quietly asking Slaine to look him in the eye. When Slaine did, he went on. “I want to see you happy. I love every moment I spend with you, and I want you to be able to enjoy them just as much.”

“Oh…” Slaine breathed. “I do, I love this place and the time I spend here and… and you. I love all of it.”

“I’m glad.” Inaho tangled their legs together and held Slaine tighter.

“It’s selfish to say,” Slaine sighed, smoothing Inaho’s hair back, “but I wouldn’t want this to change.”

“It’s not selfish. Wanting to be happy is a fundamental human impulse.”

Slaine smiled softly at him. “And that’s why I wouldn’t. You’re always there to catch me. Thank you, Inaho.”

Yes, indeed, Inaho thought lazily as he melted into the warmth pooling between them, if this was the pay off for being awoken at 5:28AM on a Saturday, then he would be very willing to do it over and over again.

Even if snow was involved.

Slaine was worth it.


	2. Let Them Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You may not have planted the seed, but it is your choice to help it grow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on a surge of feels from the final chapter of Shattered Chains. Thank you icinks for your wonderful fic! 
> 
> Since this story is not in chronological order, I'll try to include notes on when each chapter takes place, to keep things clear. This one happens about two months before "Cost/Benefit Analysis."
> 
> Suggested listening: ["Go Do" by Jonsi](https://youtu.be/Y5VgLOs0LwQ)

 

Slaine brushed the dirt off his hands and sat back with a small sigh. It was an unseasonably warm day– though late September wasn’t really that far along in fall. But still, the chill was creeping in around the edges of evening and riding down on the breeze. He was thankful for the warmth while it lasted. It certainly made end-of-season weeding easier.

Off somewhere to his left, he could hear Inaho steadily raking leaves. A snap of cold several days ago had painted the trees in brilliant reds and yellows and golds, but not many had begun to fall yet. Inaho wanted to stay on top of things, apparently. Practical as ever.

Slaine spread out his hands in front of himself, palm-up. He examined them; dirt-stained, lightly tanned on the backs, even calloused in places from the months of grooming and tending the little strawberry garden. It had been a lucky find, the gangly patch of chewed-up, ragged-looking plants in a clearing in the woods that surrounded the small house.

And with these two hands, he had brought it back. It filled his chest with a strange, light feeling, the idea that perhaps he was capable of something other than harm.

The many baskets of strawberries that resulted had been a delicious payoff, but Slaine would have been contented with anything, really. This chance was more than he had ever expected, and certainly more than he had ever deserved. He had given up months ago on questioning how he had ever managed to earn this, a soft bed and good food and a place to call home and Inaho, everything about Inaho, his warm red gaze and firm hands and calm voice and gentle touch and endless kindness.

In short, it was a miracle.

Above, there came the sound of many, many wings. Slaine combed the hair out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers and glanced up. The sky was brilliant blue, framed beautifully by the orange leaves, as a great flock of hundreds of small dark birds rippled and swirled in a liquid dance, shifting and dipping and whirling. Then, as one, they swooped low over the treetops and dove into the foliage all around him. Slaine held back a gasp. The grove was filled with the murmuration of a vast number of small sounds, feathers ruffling and little chirps. He stood very still, hardly daring to even breathe, just barely moving his head to look around at the roosting flock. There were far more than he could count– maybe hundreds. Randomly, a small group would fly off like sparks from a bonfire, only to swoop back immediately. The sight of those small dark wings spread against the bright sky made something in him flare in answer.

Next, in an instant, they launched into the air all at once. The sheer absence of their sounds created a vast, echoing silence so profound it took Slaine’s breath away. As the beating of their wings faded, he watched the flock flow away into the blue arc of the sky. The fall migration of birds; yet another thing that he had never expected to experience again. He was amazingly, astoundingly, lucky to even be here.

Slaine’s thoughts were interrupted by the crunch of steps through the leaves behind him. He rose to his feet, a smile already rising unbidden to his lips as he turned to see Inaho standing behind him. Inaho, who, he noted, was still holding the rake.

“That was the first large migratory flock I’ve seen this season,” Inaho said thoughtfully, eye on the place it had vanished.

“I’m glad I had the chance to experience it.” _And thank you for giving me that chance_ , Slaine added silently. Inaho looked back to him, scanning him up and down as though to check for injury– though what kind of injuries he could have taken while pulling up weeds was beyond him. He had learned to take the concern without becoming flustered, though. It was a habit of Inaho’s. One that Slaine, if he was honest with himself, quietly enjoyed. It had taken him several months to become used to the idea that Inaho cared (and sometimes he still couldn’t quite believe it), but he had swiftly become addicted to the heady rush of human kindness.

Inaho reached up to place his free hand on Slaine’s temple, and Slaine instinctively leaned into the touch. “Slaine,” and _oh_ how he loved to hear Inaho say his name in that way, like the syllables were something precious and delicate to be handled gently, “there’s some dirt smudged on your forehead here. Let me get it.”

Inaho pulled the corner of his sleeve up over his hand and rubbed at the spot, his expression so comically intent that Slaine almost had to laugh.

“There,” Inaho said, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he ran his fingers softly down the side of Slaine’s face until he was cupping Slaine’s cheek. Looking into Inaho’s eye, Slaine became suddenly aware of how fast and heavy his heart was beating in his chest, how warm and happy and simply cared for he felt, and something welled up bright and burning and joyful in his chest as he leaned inwards–

Inaho’s lips were soft against his, and the small surprised exhale he gave feathered warm over Slaine’s skin. Distantly, Slaine heard the clatter of the rake hitting the ground. Inaho’s arms came up to wrap around his neck, and he slid his hands down Inaho’s sides to rest on the curve of his hips as Inaho leaned into the kiss. Inaho combed his fingers through the hair at the nape of Slaine’s neck, and Slaine couldn’t– didn’t want to– hold back a gasp of pleasure. His eyes fluttered open (when had he closed them?), and he had no idea how he hadn’t earlier, because Inaho was right there, body pressed against his, hands in his hair, short fringe of eyelashes drawing delicate shadows over skin, there and close and breathing and alive and Slaine couldn’t tell if his heart was beating too fast or if it had just stopped beating entirely because where it should have been was overflowing with a feeling so light, so dizzyingly happy, that he felt as though there was a star burning beneath his ribs. He ran his palms up and down Inaho’s sides lightly, and Inaho hummed from the back of his throat and tilted his face to perfect the angle at which their lips met–

With all the chilling suddenness of being doused with a bucket of icewater, Slaine realized what he had done. He had kissed Inaho Kaizuka. Without asking. Without even pausing to consider if Inaho wanted this, if he would hate him for it, how wrong it was to desire anything from this man who by all rights should hate him.

And he was still doing it.

He yanked away from the kiss so sharply that Inaho actually flailed briefly to regain balance. “Slaine…?” he said, sounding dazed.

“I– I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that _I’m sorry_ ”– Slaine’s voice got faster and faster as he spoke, rising with his panic as he covered his face with his hands, face hot with shame. How could he have done that, _why_ did he do that–

Slaine felt a hand on his arm– not pulling, or pushing, just a touch. “Slaine” Inaho said softly, and damn it all if hearing Inaho say his name like that didn’t make his frantic heart slow down somewhat, “I didn’t mind. I…” Inaho paused. “I liked it, actually.” Before Slaine could get past the blank shock and actually process that sentence and what it meant, Inaho went on. “I’m just… confused. I don’t understand. Why?”

Slaine lowered his hands and took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know why. I have no idea what came over me. I just… there was something… and then you… and I wanted… I don’t know what I wanted.” He couldn’t look Inaho in the eye, and he just knew that his face was embarrassingly red. “I’m… sorry.”

“Slaine,” Inaho said, “can you look at me?” Slaine swallowed, and forced himself to meet Inaho’s gaze. When he did, he saw that Inaho was smiling: a small, reassuring smile that made his stomach flutter. “Don’t apologize. Please. As I said, I found it quite enjoyable.” Wait– was _Inaho_ , of all people, _blushing_? “It felt right. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“You… you liked it?” Slaine repeated tentatively. The shame that curdled sour in his chest was slowly, agonizingly slowly, melting to uncertain hope.

“It was right,” Inaho said again, tone soft. He reached out carefully and took Slaine’s hand in his. His thumb rubbed slow, calming circles onto the back of Slaine’s hand, and it was working, Slaine could feel the tension draining from his body. “Do you want it?”

Slaine blinked. “Want… what?”

“This.”

And somehow, despite the spareness of that declaration, Slaine understood. And it left him breathless.

This choice was his… and what did he want?

He wanted…

More close-cut chess matches. More of Inaho’s hands gently stroking his back when he woke up with his throat raw from screaming. More quiet evenings spent simply enjoying each other’s company. More “Do you want seconds?” when the ladle was already poised above his bowl. More casual banter over breakfast. More hands holding out a sunhat on the first hot day of spring. More of fingertips softly tracing over his scars. More laughing as he dragged Inaho out into a sudden summer downpour until they were both soaked. More picking strawberries with pink-stained fingers. More of that quiet smile that Inaho showed so rarely. More of…

More of _this._ Whatever _this_ was. It wasn’t new, certainly. Looking back, it had been a part of him for a long time now– perhaps even years. He had never noticed, never suspected. It had just grown around him, grown through him, until it was such an integral part of him he could not imagine living without it.

“Yes,” Slaine breathed, “yes. I want this.” _I choose this_.

“I’m glad,” Inaho said simply.

He didn’t try to let go of Slaine’s hand, and Slaine did not want him to.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new BFAS chapter is in the works I swear ;u;  
> After finals+christmas, I promise!


	3. New Year, New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Slaine week! For the prompt "New Beginnings," and snuck in last minute once again. ^^;;
> 
> This one takes place after both of the previous chapters. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (Apologies for any mistakes, this chapter is unbetaed I'm afraid. Also, this might be the last update of this for a while– I want to focus more on Blood From A Stone. However, this story hasn't ended yet, so there will be more updates!)

Slaine stretched comfortably and settled back into the soft couch cushions. The Christmas dinner Inaho had prepared had been delicious, and left them both sleepy and contented, lounging around the electric heater in the living room.

Or, rather, it had left Slaine reclining on the couch, and Inaho settling himself across Slaine’s legs, head in Slaine’s lap. It wasn’t uncomfortable, so Slaine let him. And truly… it was a good feeling, the closeness and warmth.

Inaho held his tablet above his face in a position that Slaine, frankly, thought could only lead to it falling on him. But hey, it wasn’t Slaine’s nose in danger here, and this was Inaho: he had probably already calculated the risk involved in holding it above his head like that, and decided the pros outweighed the cons.

Then, Inaho’s eyebrows went up slightly, and he breathed something that sounded like “Ah.” He moved to get up, hand on Slaine’s shoulder for leverage.

“Inaho? What are you doing?” Slaine felt the lack of Inaho’s warmth against him keenly as Inaho stood up. “Where are you going?”

“I forgot something,” he said, and did not elaborate as he vanished into the hall. Slaine shifted in his seat. Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling and resisted the urge to curl in on himself to hold on to the lingering body heat. Muffled noises drifted down the hallway– they seemed to be coming from Inaho’s room. What was Inaho up to? Slaine fidgeted uneasily, thoughts churning. But…

Inaho’s steps were already returning. Clearly, he had just needed to fetch something– what? Slaine couldn’t guess– and now he was coming back. After the fact, the ridiculousness of getting this worked up by such a small thing was obvious, but Slaine couldn’t help it even as the familiar shame settled in his chest. 

 

He took ahold of himself and breathed deeply, slowly. There was no need to berate himself, just as there was no reason to fear. This was a calm, warm, comfortable evening. It wouldn’t vanish. This was something he was allowed to have. To hold.

And there was Inaho, back again.  _ See _ ? Slaine said silently, to himself.  _ This is something you can trust. You just have to let yourself _ .

Inaho came back to the couch, but instead of sitting down he held out a small box. The box, Slaine noted as he stared at it with wide eyes, had a bow on it.

“Here,” Inaho said, “this is for you.” The look on his face was… expectant.

“You’re giving me a present?” Slaine tried to keep the shock from his voice, but heard it crackle through anyway. “I– I don’t have anything for you”–

“That’s fine. I don’t need anything.” Inaho offered the box once more. “Take it.”

 

Slaine stretched out a hand, too curious to be tentative. It was a small box, rounded at the corners and hinged in the back. No sounds came from it to give him a clue at the contents. It wasn’t heavy, either. He looked up at Inaho, one eyebrow raised in askance.

 

“Open it,” Inaho encouraged. Slaine swore he was nearly bouncing. What had gotten into Inaho tonight? What kind of Christmas present merited this level of excitement?

 

“Alright…” Slaine narrowed his eyes at Inaho before turning his attention back to the box. He pried the box open, heart beating faster in anticipation despite his wariness. Inside, nestled in the folds of a velvet cushion, was—

 

A ring.

 

For what felt like forever, he could only stare, mind completely blank. The ring was a small, dark band, slightly wider at one side that the other. It gleamed gently in the warm golden light that filled the room. He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly very dry. “…Inaho– what–”

 

“We’re going out,” Inaho said. “To the town, for the New Year’s celebration. That’s the Aldnoah cloaking device you’ll wear, so there will be no concerns about you being recognized.” Slaine’s heart started beating again as Inaho went on. “It also contained a sensor, to ensure that it remains within ten meters of the matching one in my possession. However, I disabled that. It unnecessarily endangers your safety if we are separated in a crowd.”

 

“You… disabled it?” Slaine could only helplessly repeat the words flowing over him. How long had it been since he had been around people? “What about… what about the electric fence? How will I get across?”

 

A brief flicker of displeasure showed on Inaho’s face. “The most I could get them to allow was twelve hours. From five PM on December 31st to five AM January 1st, it will be turned off so you can cross it. I… would prefer if the timeframe were longer.”

 

“Twelve hours is… more than enough.” Slaine felt strangely dizzy. A holiday? Going out to celebrate a holiday? With Inaho? His fingers tightened around the little box in his hand reflexively. The box, that held the ring, the ring that was an aldnoah disguise so that he could walk among ordinary people without fear, the ring that would have kept him chained to Inaho’s side if Inaho had not casually snapped the chain– just because there was a chance it would put Slaine at risk.

 

It was– it was as though he had been within a cage, but the door had been left open. He could leave, run, never come back. If he wanted. And that… 

 

That was precisely why he  _ never _ wanted to leave.

 

“Slaine?” There was sincere worry in Inaho’s voice. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, yes, I’m– fine, I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong.” Slaine scrubbed furiously at his eyes with the back of his free hand. “Thank you, thank you so much, I don’t know if I can ever explain how much this means to me”–

 

“Then you don’t have to try.” Inaho knelt in front of him, and softly took his free hand and pulled it away from his face. Looking steadily into his eyes, Inaho smiled. 

 

Slaine could not help but return that smile. Then, his smile grew, and grew, until he was laughing, the precious little box clutched against his chest. He threw himself at Inaho, wrapping his arms tight around this kind, wonderful, trusting, forgiving, loving person. Inaho wobbled slightly, but his hold was warm and steady as he hugged Slaine back.

 

∫

 

Slaine peered at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his suddenly-dark bangs. The aldnoah device was highly effective– with the changes the years had wrought on his face, and his distinctive eyes and hair concealed, even he wouldn’t have been able to recognize himself as the proud boy in the borrowed trappings of grandeur that he had been, during the war.

 

The eye color that Inaho had chosen– and it had been Inaho, he was sure, because who else would be so exactingly detailed?– was a dark green, reminiscent of pine needles and river stones. It wasn’t an exact match to the face he remembered (and certainly not a match that Inaho could have intended to make), but the combination of dark hair and dark eyes stirred a sense of fond nostalgia in him.

 

As he walked up to Inaho, Slaine couldn’t help but wonder if this different appearance changed anything. Did it seem strange?

 

Inaho was sitting at his desk, facing away as Slaine approached. Slaine cleared his throat. “So… how does it look?”

 

Inaho turned, and looked him up and down for a long moment as Slaine tried not to fidget. Eventually, he said “It should be enough,” and then went back to the textbook page open on his tablet. 

 

Slaine fought back a sigh. It was good that even Inaho’s observant eye thought the change in his appearance was sufficient, but it would have been nice to hear something… more. 

 

“Wait, Slaine.”

 

Slaine stopped mid-turn and looked back at Inaho. “…Yes?”

 

Inaho’s expression as he spoke was the one of a man who profoundly meant what he said. “You look very nice.”

 

“Th-thank you,” Slaine stuttered, and then whirled away and scurried back to the bathroom, burning face hidden in his hands. Compliments still felt so  _ strange _ . And Inaho was so damn sincere about them. How was Slaine supposed to react?

 

Even so, he was glad the flaring lights of the deactivating Aldnoah disguised how red his cheeks were in the mirror.

 

∫

 

The air was bracing as it wound through the buildings of the little town. But the chill and the coat of sparkling snow on the ground could not dampen Slaine’s excitement as he nearly dragged Inaho down the road from where the sanctioned vehicle had dropped them off. It was only six, but already dark enough that the only lights were the stars, and the buildings up ahead with their welcoming glow. The night was clear, and cold, and wonderful.

 

Garlands and wreaths hung from the streetlights, and the streets were lit golden and filled with milling crowds of people. Laughter, cheers, conversation, all drifted through the air. Slaine had to stop (with Inaho staggering to a halt next to him) and take a moment to just breathe. 

 

“Thank you,” Slaine repeated for what might have been the hundredth time. He hadn’t been counting, he didn’t know or care. The number would never be high enough to express the feelings that burned within him.

 

Inaho tilted his head in acknowledgement, then looked back down the path. “Shall we go?”

 

“Of course!” Slaine laughed. “What are we waiting for?”

 

∫

 

The very first brightly-lit storefront they entered (which Slaine did not actually have to drag Inaho into, as Inaho was rather eager to get out of the late-night chill) was a small, cozy cafe. The walk to town hadn’t been too long, but Slaine welcomed the soft, comfortable seats and the warm cup of hot chocolate he could curl his cold hands around.

 

Inaho was (rather amusingly, in Slaine’s opinion) huddled within his coat still, even inside. He also had his fingers wrapped around a cup much like Slaine’s. The main difference was a distinct lack of marshmallows. This was due to the fact that Inaho had already eaten them, with expedient efficiency. 

 

“Here you go, dears,” said the woman who brought their order– two fresh cinnamon rolls, hot from the oven. She smiled down at them, her face folding into a lifemap of wrinkles. “It does my heart good to see two people so young and in love.” 

 

Slaine looked down at the table, a blush rising to his face. Were they really that obvious?

 

“And congratulations!” the woman added. When Slaine glanced back up at her in surprise, she nodded her head towards his hands. “I wish you two a long happy life together.” With that, she left, before Slaine could pull his thoughts together enough to stammer out a believable explanation as to why he and Inaho were out on a cafe date on New Year’s Eve,  wearing matching rings. 

 

Inaho merely sipped his drink. It seemed that he minded the idea not at all– which of course left Slaine blushing even harder even as he tried to simply forget about it. All in all, he was glad to have the food to distract himself with.

 

Until…

 

“Slaine.”

 

He looked up– to see, hovering in front of his nose, a morsel of sweet. One that Inaho was holding out completely unselfconsciously. 

 

“Here. I thought you might want to taste a bit of the orange-flavored one. It’s quite good.”

 

“Um…” Slaine could feel himself blushing yet again, and tried to reassure himself that this was the kind of thing couples did all the time, really, there was nothing unusual about it…

 

Thinking of himself and Inaho as a couple completely failed to stop the advance of his blush, so he simply gave up, and took the proffered morsel.

 

It  _ was _ good, the soft tanginess of the orange complementing well with the sweetness of sugar and the rich undercurrent of cinnamon. Slaine savored it slowly, eyes closed blissfully. When he opened them again, he caught Inaho looking at him with a strange, soft expression on his face– one that made his heart flutter. He was probably blushing a ridiculous shade by now, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care anymore.

 

“You should have some of mine too, so you get to experience the flavor as well. It’s only fair,” Slaine insisted, extending a piece of his own pastry across the table between them. Inaho’s eye widened slightly, but then he leaned forward. As Slaine watched Inaho’s lips close over it, his heart fluttered once again. Really, he should have been used to that by now.

 

Inaho chewed very solemnly for a long moment, and then opened his eye again– and that soft expression was back. Slaine held Inaho’s gaze and felt the warmth spreading up his face as his heart beat faster (possibly to make up missed time from all that fluttering). He couldn’t help the shy smile that rose to his lips, or the small sheepish laugh that spilled from him.

 

Inaho tilted his head slightly, and smiled back.

 

∫

 

Down at the shore, a soft wind carried the scents of salt and ice over the sand, and scoured most of the snow off of the boardwalk. It combed through Slaine’s hair as he stood there, staring out over the water. There was a bright spark of moon in the sky, nestled within the glittering arch of the satellite belt.

 

Slaine looked up at it and smiled, soft and bittersweet and laden with memories. He had no way to sort out what he felt, about that time. It had been wonderful; it had been nightmarish. He had found true friends; he had been more alone than he had ever been. He had won everything; he had lost it all.

 

“Slaine?” 

 

There was a gentle pressure on his arm, and his smile became warm as he turned. He knew without a doubt who it was. Inaho.

 

Five years ago he wouldn’t even have been angry had someone told him that in the future he would be walking around a prettily-decorated village hand-in-hand with Inaho Kaizuka. He would have merely laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that idea.

 

And yet, here he was. The one future he was sure neither of them had predicted.

 

“Yes, Inaho?”

 

“It is midnight in fifteen minutes. Do you want to go to the clock tower square?”

 

Midnight… the new year. The first one in many, many years that he would actually witness without a heavy heart. Without being alone.

 

Five years ago– even one year ago– his face would have ached from the amount of smiling he had done tonight. But perhaps he was finally getting used to the idea of happiness, because the expression merely felt comfortable and familiar, now. 

 

“Of course I do. Let’s go!” Slaine was laughing, light and free as starshine, as they ran up the path. Slaine made sure not to go too fast though– for Inaho’s sake.

 

∫

 

The square was packed, but somehow– likely with Inaho’s crowd-navigating skills– they managed to get a good spot. It was cold enough that Slaine’s breath formed little diaphanous clouds of vapor before it dissipated. Even so, Inaho had not buried himself in his scarf, which Slaine assumed to be Inaho’s way of honoring the occasion.

 

There was less than a minute to go, and Slaine felt giddily breathless. Perhaps it was just the time and him getting swept up in the excitement of it– yet, he felt that this really did mean something. The seconds peeled away from the end of the year, and he could feel his old life floating away with them. He would never, and could never, forget everyone and everything that had been part of him, but he was not bound by all that any more. It could not weigh him down, hold him back from stepping forward.

 

The background noise of the dozens of people gathered around rose as the second hand passed the six. Slaine could feel the crackling energy hovering over them all, waiting there at the threshold of something new and different from anything than they had ever lived before. Most of all, though, Slaine could feel Inaho’s steady presence at his side.

 

Then, it was time. As one, the crowd drew in a breath–

 

**“Ten!”**

 

Slaine felt something warm touch his hand, and glanced down to see Inaho winding their fingers together. 

 

**“Nine!”**

 

He looked back up, and they smiled in unison.

 

**“Eight!”**

 

It was almost here. The new year.

 

**“Seven!”**

 

The first year in many that he would begin free of guilt, free of fear, free of loneliness, and simply… free.

 

**“Six!”**

 

The first year he would spend with Inaho. Together.

 

**“Five!”**

 

“Slaine.”

 

They were close enough that even in the crowd, Slaine heard Inaho perfectly. “Yes?”

 

**“Four!”**

 

“Thank you.”

 

Slaine didn’t need to ask what for. Neither of them did. There was so much more between them than words could ever capture.

 

**“Three!”**

 

So they didn’t try.

 

**“Two!”**

 

They pulled each other closer, under the fragments of moon and glittering stars and the warm lights sparkling around them and the broad illuminated clock face above the square.

 

**“One!”**

 

And let their bodies and hands and lips do the talking for them.

 

Distantly, Slaine could hear the delighted screams of “Happy New Year!” And what was possibly an appreciative whistle from somewhere nearby. But he didn’t care. He was much more focussed on the press of Inaho’s body against his, the familiar warmth and firmness of Inaho’s lips, the rush of dizzy joy that filled him to be here, in this moment, living this.

 

Their lips parted, but they stayed standing close enough to feel one another’s warm breath. Close enough that Slaine could see the way the muscles of Inaho’s face shifted as he smiled.

 

“Happy New Year, Slaine.”

 

“Happy New Year, Inaho. And…” Slaine leaned down and rested his forehead against Inaho’s. “Thank you.”  _ For everything. _

  
_ For this new life, this new beginning. _


End file.
